


Comosum

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 10:10:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21073184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Noctis had one job.





	Comosum

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He arrives at the door with dinner already made: chilled pasta salad neatly stored in glass containers. Noctis comes to meet him there, even though Ignis has the key and could easily let himself in. That’s the first red flag. Noctis even offers to hold the containers while Ignis sheds his shoes and jacket. Then they’re heading out into the living area, Noctis steering Ignis towards the kitchenette. As the food’s already finished, Ignis steps around him and goes straight to the dining table.

Something looks off about it. It takes Ignis a second to realize what. The spider plant that should sit squarely in the middle is missing. A quick look around reveals its new location: a windowsill in the living room. The black-gold pot is facing the wrong way around: the instructions Ignis had taped to the front must be facing out the window. 

Nothing else in the apartment has moved since Ignis’ last visit. Noctis doesn’t strike him as the type to randomly redecorate. As he heads over, he can hear Noctis unloading the containers onto the dining table. Noctis calls after him, “Uh, do you want coffee? I can make you—”

Ignis has already reached the plant. He rotates the pot towards him, moving the long, spindly leaves away from the direct sunlight. The majority of the leaves are a natural lime green and white, but several leaves that had been hidden are a garish dark forest green on the ends. 

They’re also crunchy and jagged. Ignis can tell that they’re dying, and someone painted over the brown tips with a coloured marker. It’s a terrible patch job that wouldn’t fool even the most amateur of gardeners. 

Ignis turns back to Noctis and announces, voice laced with disappointment, “You will not be getting a cat.”

Noctis splutters, “But—_why not_?”

“You knew the deal. If you can’t even keep a plant alive for one week, how can we expect you to take care of an animal?”

Noctis’ cheeks flush, and he snaps, “Well, I’d care more about the cat, obviously!”

“If you did, you would’ve passed this test easily. At this point, you really need to show more responsibility.”

Anger, resentment, and annoyance flicker across Noctis’ face, but Ignis holds firm. As silly as it is, he actually feels responsible himself: he knew handing the plant over to Noctis was signing its death warrant. He’d just hoped Noctis would prove him wrong. 

After a long minute of glaring, Noctis mutters, “You know what? I’m just gonna go over your head and ask Dad to get me one.”

With a sigh, Ignis asks, “Whose idea do you think the plant was?” He gets a small spark of satisfaction out of Noctis’ obvious shock. But the conversation can’t go anywhere else, so Ignis leaves to go serve dinner.


End file.
